She Loved You, Yesterday
by Gauntz and Eflwyn
Summary: John is caught between two women; Cynthia, his first love, or Yoko, an Avant-Garde artist he had met at an art gallery. Attempting to avoid his problems, he begins to write a summary of his relationship with Cynthia; As his developed and dies with Yoko. Avoidance became Cowardice; Will John keep ignoring the world's pains? (Not Across the Universe, based on real events.)


**Ok, I haven't been writing in quite a long period of time. Sorry... I just decided to stop, I have a lot going on at the moment. But, I'm back... So yeah.**

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The year was splendid, 1957, the year I had met her - Cynthia. Lovely, lovely, Cyn. That's what I called her.

I can easily recall the moment where I approached her on the dance floor, her and her other friend Phil, seemed almost surprised. Cynthia's obvious discomfort and awkwardness had made me unfortunately arrogant as I had slid next to her slyly, the usual and intended cynical expression dashed across my face. "Do you wanna get up?" I asked, trying to make my voice low and intimidating.

I knew at that moment I was trying a tad bit too hard; I think Cyn would have known too.

"S-sure." She stuttered, her blonde hair parting over her shoulders and her rather plain dress. She reminded me of Bridget Bardotte... Perhaps that's why I fancied her. I couldn't tell then. My arms immediately curled around hers, taking her, swirling her as our clumsy footwork went unnoticed by the other's. Artists weren't exactly great dancers anyways. A Chuck Berry song had come on, but I couldn't remember which, as my eyes danced around Cyn's, lights swirling around us, the world seemed to slow. At that moment I had decided the time was right, as I attempted to keep calm, pacing my breath as we danced.

"Do you fancy going out with me?" I gave my most charming smile I could pull, the muscles in my face tensing. A faint pink was airbrushed across her face, which meant to me she would say, "Yes," through her perfect parted lips

"I'm actually engaged to a boy in Hoylake."

Fucking Bollocks.

I silently grumbled, moving backwards, and stopping the dance. "I didn't ask you to fucking marry me, did I?" I retorted, storming away to my group of friends. "It's alright John, it's alright." I reassured to myself, staying in the corner with my long black overcoat. The lads were telling me to cheer up, and one of them, I think Stu, had suggested I take her to the pub after the party. I waited silently until the crowd had disappeared and dispersed, as my friends and I had made my way towards Cynthia and had asked her to accompany me to the pub. She had willingly come, seeming to be simply enchanted by me..

But wasn't she engaged?...

I had spent the whole hour in the corner of the pub, taking a whiff of the cheap pack of smokes, contemplating. My friends joked around, and I had tried to keep my eyes away from Cynthia, but she demanded my attention. I took another whiff of the cigarette, and boldly began to walk across the pub, where only Cynthia was left - Phil seemed disappointed, leaving early, and Cyn was about to too, but I had called her a nun, and asked her to stay.

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May, 22 1968.

Yoko's slippers were perched outside _our _bedroom room. Cyn.. No, Cynthia had stormed out of the house moments ago, and I had began to write this - I guess a recount of me and Cyn. I mean Cynthia. I dropped the pencil, frozen as Yoko stood over me, peeking over my shoulder. "What's that John?" "Ah, nothing, just a song." I waved her away, leaning for a kiss, to distract her. It didn't work, of course as most things turn out for me. "Well, what type of song is it, John..?" She said slowly, her hair leaking onto my shoulder, as I quietly made a motion toward the paper, crumbling it and throwing it into the waste bin nearby. I was glad that she didn't pursue it, her face softening, looking towards the open light window. "I love you Yoko. Mm? I loooove... you." I sang, trying to distract myself and her.

"I love you too, John." She replied, heading to the washroom, as I leaned back relieved. "Cyn, Cyn, Cyn. Lovely, lovely, lovely Cynthia. I'd go mad without you. Kisses and Hugs." I slumped back into my chair, throwing my glasses onto the writing desk, rubbing my eyes in discomfort.

It was obvious to me that it was purely guilt that was affecting my psyche. I had asked her to take a trip in Greece with one of my friends - Or hers, I couldn't tell anymore. At first, it was due to the recording of White; You know, our album. Then Yoko had visited our estate, Kenwood, and everything had changed from their, escalating into disaster.

I leaned on my arm, humming, recounting the day. Yoko had arrived, given the opportunity that Cyn was now gone, and we had been sitting on the neat white wool rug, clad in only bathrobes, gazing into each other's eyes intently.

Then Cyn had arrived home earlier than expected, and left as quickly as she came, with tears in her eyes.

"She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah, She loves you, yeah yeah yeah." I whispered, silently brushing away the small streams that ran down my eyes, printed by the rims of my glasses.

I'm sorry, Cyn. I'm sorry.

I wish I could write that, a thousand times, or perhaps even more, those words, that were meant to alleviate the pain. But words didn't matter anymore. Nothing ever mattered anymore.

It's all my fault.

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